An Untimely Intrusion
by Doc Scratch
Summary: Austria is enjoying a pleasant visit with a young Mozart. Prussia decides to drop in on his favorite target. Sometimes it really sucks to be Austria. One-Shot


A/N: This is just a silly, pointless little scene that was inspired by a rather cute picture I saw once of Austria and Mozart. I seem to have misplaced the original link to the picture though, sadly, so I can't share it. Hopefully the fic will be enough.

Disclaimer: I disclaim.

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An Untimely Intrusion

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**June, 1776**

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It was a gorgeous day; Mozart had thrown the curtains open earlier to let the sunlight stream in through the glass, and the rays cast a million reflective designs on the carpet. Austria found the peace of the late afternoon was made all the more enjoyable by the presence of his protégé, who was rather a lively conversationalist, and appreciated a good cup of tea at least as well as his country. Mozart's intelligence and enthusiasm kept the calm atmosphere pleasant rather than boring, and Austria could not have been more enamoured of his company. Save, that he really desired to hear him play. It wasn't that he hadn't before, for there was scarcely a performance of Mozart's that Austria had missed without great reason, but simply that he never tired of the music.

"Wolfgang," Roderich said suddenly, delicately interjecting into Mozart's recount of an admittedly amusing affair involving a servant attempting to rescue a cat from a tree, and the youth paused obligingly, "I wonder, how is your latest composition coming along?"

"Oh," Mozart smiled, quirking an eyebrow at the change of subject, but appearing neither surprised nor upset, "it's nearly complete, I should think. I feel I still have quite a bit to do before I am satisfied, but then I find that I am rarely if ever without any complaints of even my finished works."

"I would say that is true of all artists," Austria replied smoothly, lifting his cup as he spoke from its saucer on the table between them and leaning against the back of the sofa upon which he was seated, "but you say you are nearly complete, so you must have made good progress."

"Progress, yes," Mozart nodded, sitting upright in his armchair, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. His big blue eyes caught a few stray rays of sunshine and gleamed like sapphires. Mozart wasn't wearing a wig today, there wasn't any need, and the way a few locks that had escaped the ribbon he'd tied his hair with curled against his face made him look even younger than he was. In his fine clothes he was the very picture of youthful nobility, vibrant yet cultured. Austria adored him.

"Would you mind perhaps playing me some of it?" Austria asked, indicating the piano arranged in a corner of the room, and Mozart's smile faded a little. It had been the edge of evening when they'd come to the parlor, and the shadows in the room had lengthened as the time progressed. Austria knew he had only an hour or so left to spend with his prodigy, which was why he made his request so directly.

"I apologize, but," Mozart truly did sound regretful as he cast the piano an affectionate glance, "perhaps another time? I've been performing and working all day, I would really rather relax this evening. Though, if you insist of course I cannot refuse." He smiled again, gently, and it did seem to help ease the disappointment that descended upon Austria. He felt rather greedy, all of a sudden, making demands like that when Mozart had already spoiled him with countless private performances in the past.

"No- it's quite alright, I shouldn't have asked," Roderich leaned forward to set his cup back in its sauce, "I'm far too infatuated with your music, it brings out the most unbecoming lack of manners in me." Mozart laughed at that, and his laugh was light and boyish, a music all its own, and Austria loved it just as much as any song Mozart had composed.

"I find it hard to think anything could be unbecoming in you," Mozart's smile had become wide and playful, and Austria could only stare for a moment in stunned silence before a light blush rose on his cheeks. The Nation had barely opened his mouth to respond (likely with flustered indignancy), however, when the door to the parlor suddenly swung open with great force, crashing into the wall behind it and causing Austria to wince instinctively.

However the concern he felt over the state of the wall was swiftly overrun by sheer horror as he looked up to the all too familiar intruder. Prussia stood in the doorway, grinning like the devil himself. Austria did not know what to do, he glanced at Mozart, in a panic, but the blond composer had turned his attention to Prussia with no reaction other than a quirked eyebrow and an expression of curious interest.

"Hey, Specs! How's it-" Prussia paused in the middle of his uncouth greeting, looking between the distressed Austria frozen on the sofa, and Mozart peering at him from his seat. Prussia tilted his head, clearly returning Mozart's curiousity. The slight motion seemed to awaken Austria, who scrambled to salvage the situation.

"Get out of here!" Austria demanded, rising to his feet and taking quick steps towards the albino, whose gaze immediately re-centered upon him, "haven't you any respect for a person's right to privacy in their own home!"

"No," Gil replied flatly, his usual sharp grin making a re-appearance as he stood his ground, unimpressed by Roderich's hostile advance. He nodded over at Mozart, "I've seen him before. That's your wonderkid, isn't it? Is he as stuffy and unwelcoming as you are?"

"I am not stuffy by any means! And anyone would be unwelcoming towards _you!_" Austria hissed, coming close enough to begin attempts at shoving Prussia back out the door. Normally he was slightly more tolerant of Prussia's tendency to show up at his house unannounced, but he didn't want the other Nation anywhere near Mozart. Not that he thought Prussia would harm him, but... frankly, the idea of Prussia being his crude, ill-mannered self in front of Austria's current favorite was downright humiliating. Unfortunately, Prussia seemed to be fully aware of this.

"You are really overreacting," He scooped Austria up as easily as if he were a sack of flour, and, ignoring the aristocrat's indignant sputtering, walked over to dump him on the sofa again. Austria straightened himself swiftly, adjusting his glasses and tugging at his jacket until it was more or less back in place. He glared venemously up at Prussia.

"I am hardly overreacting," He said, the words bordering on acidic, "you have _invaded my home_, you idiot!" Prussia ignored this, dropping onto the couch next to Austria, who hurried to put space between them, pressing himself against the opposite arm of the piece of furniture. Prussia just laughed, draping his arms over the back of the sofa.

"Does he treat all his guests like this?" Gilbert questioned of Mozart, who had thus far been a silent observer of the odd interaction.

"No, but something tells me you are not the average guest," Mozart replied carefully, his smile slowly returning, and Austria was alarmed to see a sudden similarity in it to Prussia's grin. There was that same impression of mischeviousness, though in Mozart it was merely a hint, whereas Prussia was practically overflowing with it.

"Ya got that right, I'm the awesome Prussia!" Prussia flipped a lazy salute, and Austria almost choked on air. True, he had allowed Mozart in on the secret of his identity, but Prussia couldn't have known that for sure, and it was downright shocking how lax the other man could be about what was supposed to be a matter of national security. Was Prussia really that stupid, or did he just think the risk worth the opportunity to shock someone? If it was the latter, he would be disappointed, for Mozart's surprise was not dramatic in the least.

"I see," He responded simply, both eyebrows raised now and big blue eyes sparkling with amusement, "well, that certainly explains a great deal." He cleared his throat lightly, "my name is Mozart, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Mozart didn't bother extending a hand, evidently he was perfectly aware that Prussia would have ignored it.

"Of course it is," Prussia laughed, shifting to rest his boots on the table. Austria gave a huff of frustration and immediately pushed them off again, earning himself a pout. "I was tryin' to get comfortable."

"You were trying to ruin my furniture is what you were trying to do!" Austria retorted, watching Prussia's boots for any attempts to replace themselves on the tabletop, but they remained on the floor. The pleasantness of the evening had all but vanished, and Austria despaired of getting rid of the Prussian soon enough to spend any more time with only Mozart.

"You are such a stick in the mud," Prussia rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab hold of the brunet's haircurl, prompting Austria to smack at his hand. The audacity!

"I am simply reacting to your disgusting presence! Don't touch Mariazell!" Austria glared venemously, seething and wishing there were some way to kick Prussia out without causing a scene. Then again, one of the surest ways to get Prussia to keep bothering you was to let him know just how badly you wanted him gone. The man was a complete menace, and- why didn't Mozart look the least bit appalled?

"Tell me, Herr Prussia, do you often see fit to torment Herr Edelstein so?" Mozart's tone was strangely light, as though he were inquiring about the weather, and Prussia's interest in him was clearly renewed, for he abandoned Austria's hair and instead leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Whenever I think he's getting too comfortable, ja!" Prussia replied, "I like to keep him on his toes."

"I'm sure." Mozart said simply, and Prussia's grin faltered, a look of vague confusion entering scarlet eyes. Then they widened, and he laughed again, raucously. Bewildered, Austria looked between the two, trying to find his way into the joke.

"Are you sure you're one of his?" Prussia managed to ask once he'd gotten his laughter under control; Mozart nodded, and Prussia just shook his head, "I guess there had to be at least one Austrian with a sense of humor."

"I have a perfectly fine sense of humor!" Austria knew a slight when he heard it, "just because I don't find _your_ crude idea of jokes enjoyable doesn't mean-"

"I'm pretty sure I've _never _heard you laugh, Specs," Prussia interrupted, and Austria had to pause, wondering if indeed he had ever laughed in the Prussian's presence... not that it was a mystery why he wouldn't! The man was insufferable! "You're so damn stiff all the time. Really, I think you just need to get laid." Austria choked on air again, and when he managed to force out words of protest they sounded oddly strangled-

"He might have a point there."

Austria's head snapped around, and he stared at Mozart with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. The composer shrugged, and smiled sweetly at him, blue eyes wide and innocent. Then Prussia started laughing so hard that he fell off the sofa, and Austria pressed his hands to his temples with a groan as the headache which always threatened to descend upon a visit from the albino Nation suddenly hit him full force.

It was safe to say that the evening was ruined.

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End.

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A/N: Um... yes. That's all. I did say it was silly and pointless. I hope it was amusing, at least.


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